Kelly Ripa is Fucking Brilliant, Keeping Hollywood On Its Toes

Michael Strahan started his gig as the new Regis Philbin today, and for some reason I fucking handed in my testicles and read something about it and saw this:

 Overall, Ripa said that she had a wonderful experience with all her guest co-hosts since Regis Philbin retired last fall, but there was an exception—Ripa said, "I have enjoyed every single solitary person except for one. The staff is laughing because they know that's true." Hmm—dare we speculate?

Which of course made me think of this:

Football my junior year we got a new coach. Bubba Hooker. Was crazy as his name suggests. Had never coached high school before, only college, so his level of intensity was a liiiiiiittle higher than our homespun collection of rednecks, Adidas-wearing black kids and one in particular stunningly handsome, big-dicked, God-affirming slice of humana perfecta who did not tread on this Earth as much as float. So practice begins in August, I guess the first week or so we don't use pads, we're just getting in condition, learning plays etc. MAYBE kissing a little, but not much. Then the first day with pads we basically spend 3 hours in 100-degree heat beating the shit out of each other; doing drill after drill where there's not even a ball involved, just whistles and hits. Hit hit hit hit hit. So anyway, the next day Coach is yammering and he tells us that he liked what he had seen the day before, we all hit hard and worked, etc etc. And he said that he only saw one coward amongst us, one coward who was scared of getting hit. We were like whaaa....looking around at each other, wondering who the fuck he could be talking about. He never said who he meant, and we all remembered that comment. You'd wonder throughout the season, was Coach talking about ME?? fuck him! and you'd really pin your ears back and wail on some motherfuckers. All year, we wondered who had he been talking about.

Of course many years later, I bolted straight up in bed as it flashed on me: it was a trick!! There wasn't one guy he had seen as a coward; he wanted each of us to think it was ourselves and push us to play with fury, unhinged aggression driven white-hot by having our young manhoods challenged. Ha! Brilliant, I thought, shaking my head. Fucking brilliant.

Of course it wasn't THAT brilliant, as him being a bit of a psycho trimmed our team down from 51 guys to 16 and we won exactly one game. But hey. I never forgot that, and I think of it now as all these beautiful ladies have to go to bed tonite wondering if it's them that's not good enough, not pretty enough etc etc. Maybe it will drive them to hit the gym, get a titty job or jerk me off in the back of Topps Grocery Store, I dunno. But remember ladies, even if you are dropped to the 11th and 12th spots, I will still do you. There's "losing" and then there's "Xmastime won't do me."